


The Watchers (Re-Write)

by SannahOfSkva



Series: Watchers' End [4]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Lore - Freeform, Magic, Nether Magic, Netherborn!Tango, Overworld Magic, TFC Tango and Grian tell a story, TFC is Herobrine, The End, The Nether, Void Kind, Void Kind!Xisuma, Watchers, Winged!Grian, to explain things, void magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SannahOfSkva/pseuds/SannahOfSkva
Summary: The Watchers are loose on Hermitcraft, and only three know why they’re bad news.
Series: Watchers' End [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754272
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

Doc carefully placed his friend on a bed, counting each and every Hermit as they trickled their way into the room. The rather plain looking place has already been expanded once when the first half of the Hermits had arrived, and it looks like it needs to be expanded again. Yet again, the room is feeling cramped. With the number of beds, Hermits that had first expanded it, and the newcomers, the room is too small now, and a few are still not there yet.

The subdued looking Team ZIT stumbles their way in, the part-sheep gripping the arms of his companions. Soon after them is their Admin and TFC, and thankfully that’s the last of the lot. Doc smiles in relief at the pair, carefully settling down next to his passed out friend. Hopefully, none of the Hermits have been followed by that Watcher.

“That’s everyone.” Doc mutters, rubbing at his organic eye with a frown. “Now what?”

“Is the bunker warded?” Comes a small voice, causing several Hermits to jump.

All eyes turn to Grian, and the avian winces at the sudden attention from his friends. Honestly, it's a very good question to ask! Especially considering it’s directed to a few people who apparently  _ know _ about the Watchers!

“Just, what? Why?” The majority of the Hermits share confused looks before turning back to their newest member. “Does it matter?”

“They’re listening. They’re always listening!” Grian curls his wings tightly around himself, blocking the others’ sight of him as best as he can. “Anyone who knows about them knows you have to ward against them!”

Someone sighs, and by the sounds of it he can tell it’s TFC, and pushes Doc aside to sit on the bed. The bed tilts towards the heavier man, and Grian peaks through his feathers to peak at him.

“Yes, it is.” Yep, definitely TFC. “It seems like I’m not the only one that needs to explain things.”

Grian nods with a small hum in response, lightly bumping the man with a shaking wing. He gets a wiry smile in return from him, along with a short laugh. They’re soon joined by Tango on the bed, the being’s flaming hair looking like a dying fire.

“We should all start with just as to  _ what _ the Watchers are.” Grian adds in, a frown on his face. “The question is simply  _ where _ we start. From the beginning? Or with what they are now?”

“How about the beginning?”


	2. Chapter 2

“In the beginning, there was a whole lot of empty space.” TFC begins with once he motioned the other Hermits to sit and they’ve done so. “This empty space was aware, and was very lonely. So, one day, the awareness split into three: the Void, the Nether, and the Aether. The last two aren’t that important to this story, though.”

“What do you mean, not as important?” Mumbo asks, and quickly gets shushed by one of the others.

“The Watchers are Void Kind.” TFC smiles, and continues the story. “At first, it was just those three beings, and they eventually got the urge to create. Unfortunately, they had differing opinions on what to create as they were starting out. Because of this, they decided that they would go their separate ways for this.

“While I don’t know what direction the one of the other two beings had gone, The End stayed as spaced out as it always was in the beginning. The Void Kind that the Void created had, in turn, resembled that. The Void made them dangerous, so that they had a chance to live past the first century of life.”

The old Hermit goes quiet, tugging at his beard. The others could see that he’s lost in thought, all of the things about the End he’s been quiet about bubbling to the surface.  _ How much is this man hiding? _ Grian thinks.

“Then three dimensional beings joined forces at some point,” Tango speaks up, starting where TFC left off, “and created the Overworld. The First Players, Steve and Alex, were created and left to roam, and none of the beings wanted to watch over them, so the Void created the beings that eventually became the Watchers.

“They were a peaceful bunch at first, I’ve heard.” Tango winces at the thought of them now, shaking his head. “They were  _ helpful, _ even. The whole point of them was to watch over the players, to watch over  _ us. _ At some point in time it had changed, and they turned towards something darker than their true meaning.”

“What happened?” A Hermit asks, scooting forward. “Why did their meaning change?”

Tango shrugs, leaning against Grian’s wing as carefully as possible. “The Ancient Netherborn never said. What started the war was never told between the End and the Nether. The beings haven’t Spoken in… well, many millennia. And if they have, only four can Hear them.”

“Only four?”

The trio all nod in answer, and TFC’s face quickly becomes guarded. Everything about the man seems closed off, and Grian carefully lays a hand on his shoulder. TFC flinches away, and Grian quickly pulls his hand back, mumbling an apology.


	3. Chapter 3

“Get some sleep, everyone.” TFC states almost coldly, stiffly standing up as quickly as he possibly can. “We can plan and talk more about this after a good night's rest.”

Several mutter agreements in response, shuffling to beds and moving a few around. Several more beds were placed down when the group realized that there wasn’t enough for all of them, and Grian can clearly hear Cleo cursing from across the room. Some of the words she uses has him holding back a laugh, shaking his head. The being uses English in an  _ amazing _ way.

The avian sighs, motioning to Xisuma to place his bed down near the Sahara trio. The Admin does as he suggested, the weariness and worry rolling off of him in waves.

“You’re worried, X.” Grian states, and the Admin doesn’t even try to deny it. “I can tell.”

“I know nothing about these Watchers.” Xisuma whispers, fear clear in his voice. “How am I going to protect you guys from them if I know  _ nothing _ about them?”

“We’re here to help you, X.” Grian gets a confused look in response, and he continues. “TFC, Tango, and I. The three of us know a  _ ton _ of stuff about Watchers, we can help you figure out how to get rid of them! We’ll do everything we can!”

Xisuma’s eyes crinkle in response, something that Grian had eventually come to recognize as a grin. He grins back at the Admin, a wing reaching out to lightly tap on the Admin’s helmet.

“Go to sleep, my Admin.” Grian mutters. “You don’t get enough of it. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

“As long as you get some as well.”

“Of course.”

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Flaier glides down the hallway and into the gallery, gold eyes settling on the lone mask at the back. It had been there for what feels like centuries to him, far longer than he actually cares to remember. The many memories that it is connected to pull painfully at their mind, making them blare loudly at what they have lost.

Sighing, the Watcher carefully picks up the mask. They pull it closer to better studying it, smiling a bit as they remember its creation. They’re surprised that they still remember it, running a hand down the side of the mask.

The glowing purple markings are as unique as their own, meant to represent the human the group had taken in. Well, the being that the human would eventually become. The eyes are large, taking up most of the space of the mask, including the space the mouth would’ve been. They were supposed to represent the eyes of Watchers, but they badly do so.

Shaking their head, Flaier sets the mask back onto its small pedestal. The memories are painful, and the being knows not to stay there for long. Flaier had heard how memories had driven a Watcher insane millennium ago, back when their species were still young.

Shooting a last look at the mask, the Watcher leaves the gallery as quickly as their wings allow. They don’t want to be there any longer.


End file.
